


I'm Good For Nothing Will You Love Me Just The Same?

by sparkinside



Category: AFI
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/sparkinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trails and tribulations of a complicated friendship</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Good For Nothing Will You Love Me Just The Same?

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing in this piece ever happened. I claim no ownership nor do I make any sort of profit from this, other than pride and a sense of amusement.

“Hey you,” his rough, sleep-leaden voice echos from underneath a mountain of covers. You turn your attention from your book. He’d been out partying with a few friends the night before and called you from the bar, too trashed to even consider driving home. After some good natured scolding, you donned a pair of sneakers, grabbed your keys and purse from the side table and headed to the bar of the night to recover your dear friend.

As much as you hated his drinking, sometimes you feared he was boarding on alcoholic, you would do anything for him. Your friendship was incredibly precious to you. In the past few months you’d grown closer to this man than you’d ever grown to anyone. 

At times that fact terrified you. You hardly knew where you stood with him half the time. One minute you were best friends the next he flirted with you scandalously and then he’d retreat back into himself. There were times when you wanted to beat him for messing with your head the way he did. But you refrained, knowing he didn’t purposely do these things. 

When you’d met several months before, he’d recently gotten out of a complicated relationship with the brother of his close friend and bandmate. The two hadn’t parted on the best of terms, Smith angered by Hunter’s desire to just walk away, but, as Hunter had confessed to you on the first night you’d spent talking til all hours of the night, he couldn’t stay in the relationship, not when he wasn’t in love. 

Dealing with the backlash of the failed relationship certainly took its toll on Hunter. As much as he was stereotyped as the partier and the “manwhore”, you’ve come to learn for the most part he’s the exact opposite. He loves openly and fully, willing to do any and everything for the people he cares about, but that trust and devotion comes with a price. Once you’ve crossed him, that trust was dashed and earning it back was nearly impossible.

It was that along with so much more that made you fall completely for him. He’s an amazing man, that you have no doubt, and you know he cares for you. But somewhere along the line your feelings deepened. The hugs and the warm smiles took on a new meaning. These sensations were wonderful if not a bit frustrating. Yes, he cares for you, but more often than not, you did not know just how far it went and you hated it.

“Morning sleepyhead,” you answer, softly, knowing he probably had a massive hangover. Drinking like a fish tended to do that to a person. Pulling the pillow off his face, he manages a small smile, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “How do you feel?”

A groan falls from his lips, “Like I was hit by a Mack Truck.”

You shake your head, “Serves you right. You keep this up and you’ll drink yourself into a coma.” Though the words fall from your lips in a joking tone, the seriousness of them hangs in the air. His eyes slip closed, sensing your annoyance and your worry. He hates to make you worry though he knows he does so often. God, you were too good to him. He didn’t deserve this. “You just stay there. Let me get you some Tylenol and a glass of water. But after that, you are getting out of bed mister, even if I have to drag you out kicking and screaming.”

A groan is his only response as he pulls the pillow back over his head once more. You shake your head once more, pulling yourself from your chair and padding down the hall towards the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet above the sink, you turn the faucet on allowing the glass to fill. Making a pit-stop in the bathroom, you grab your handy bottle of Tylenol, you head back towards the bedroom. 

Placing the glass on the bedside table, you pop the top of the bottle, pouring two white pills into the palm of your hand. “Alright Sleeping Beauty,” you tease, “Up you go.” Grabbing the covers firmly in one hand, you yank them from his body. You swallow thickly as you note he managed to shed everything but his boxers sometime last night. Thankfully, his face is still covered with the pillow and he cannot see the blush spreading across your face.

Finally, he pulls the pillow from his face, glaring, only half aware that he’s a hare’s breath away from being completely naked before you. “You are an evil bitch, do you know that?”

You smirk, shaking your head, “But you love me anyway,” you tease right back. You refuse to acknowledge the selfish hope in your heart that he really did love you. The selfish hope that refused to die.

He grimaces at you, taking the Tylenol from your outstretched hand and grabbing the water from the bedside table. Tossing the pills in his mouth, he takes a gulp of water, his eyes slipping closed briefly.

“Alright, Burgan, up you go.” His hands swat you away and you can tell he’s annoyed. But you could honestly care less. Sure he was feeling like shit, but you weren’t about to have him laying around your house all day. If he was ever going to get himself together, he had to get back out there and face life. And dammit if you aren’t determined to help him to just that.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he whines. 

“Nope, now get your lazy ass out of that bed before I have to get in there and drag you out of it myself.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Really now? So that’s how a guy gets you in bed with him? If that’s the case, come on in and get me, babe.”

You swallow, both angered and aroused by his bold words. “I’ll be in the livingroom,” you manage to choke out, balled fists at your sides. In your haste to leave the room, you miss the hurt spreading through his eyes. 

Settling yourself on the couch, you allow your hand to run through your hair, a soft sigh playing on your lips. Dammit, you need to pull yourself together. He’s just a friend and he flirts like hell, he always has. Why the hell are you letting him get to you?

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself to your feet once more, grabbing your purse. You need to clear your head, and driving around always seemed to help. “I’ll be back later,” you call as you slip a pair of sandals on your feet and slip out the door not bothering to wait for a response. 

Pulling open the driver’s side door, you toss your purse onto the passenger’s seat and start the car. Within a few moments you’re out of the apartment parking lot and on your way to God knows where. At the moment you honestly don’t care. All you want now is to drive and just clear your head. You could think about how you would explain this to Hunter later.

Your mind wanders as you find yourself traveling through the city. An hour into your spontaneous trip you realize your cell phone is still laying on the coffee table, where you left it to charge the night before. Oh well. Here’s hoping nothing serious happens, you think to yourself.

Several hours later, you find yourself back on your street, mind clearer but a deep sense of dread pooling in your stomach. The last thing you wanted to do was face Hunter, but there really wasn’t much other choice. Taking a deep breath, you pull into the parking lot of your building. “Now or never,” you whisper to yourself as you shut off the engine. 

You barely get the key in the lock before your door is yanked violently open. Startled, you raise your eyes settling on Hunter’s face. His blue eyes are dark and full of concern and wisps of anger, his face drawn and slightly pale. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, pulling you into his arms. You return his embrace hesitantly, unsure of just how to respond. After a few moments he pulls back, eyes locking on yours once more. “Why the fuck did you just storm out like that? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

“I needed to clear my head. I’m fine, really,” you spit out, angered that he would jump on you like this. Though his concern touched you, you hated the way he blew hot and cold with you. You love him, but this whole situation is driving you mad.

“You really scared me,” he whispers, settling himself onto the couch, rubbing his head and taking a deep breath “I couldn’t get a hold of you. What if you were unconscious or dead somewhere?” You sigh, settling beside him on the couch. Gently you rest your head on his shoulder, as unsettled as you are, you could never stay angry at him for long.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, guilt rushing through you. You hate this. Hate hurting him but at the same time you’re selfishly happy to have made him experience a fraction of the shit he’s done to you. Christ you hate yourself for thinking that. Taking a deep breath, you raise your eyes to his. “Why?” you question. 

His eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why do you do this to me?” you ask dejectedly. At the moment it doesn’t matter what he’s done, you just want to know why. Maybe if you understood it would be easier to let everything go. This hopeless crush is getting you nowhere. Why has it taken you this long to see that?

He swallows thickly, tensing against you slightly. “I don’t...You know I...I’m sorry,” he finishes weakly.

You pull away from him, running your fingers through your hair. “I wish you would just make up your mind. Either I’m your friend or there’s something more between us. I’m sick of this bullshit, Hunter. I really am.” Pushing yourself to your feet, you pad into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. 

His eyes slip closed for a moment, allowing your words to sink in. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself to his feet as well, making his way slowly into the kitchen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body tight against his. “You mean the world to me, you have to know that. I never wanted to hurt you. I just...I don’t want to fuck up what we have.”

You turn in his arms, eyes laced with confusion. “I don’t...”

His finger rests against your lips, silencing you. “I just...This is hard for me. I fuck things up, its like a gift, I always find someway of fucking up and hurting the people that matter most to me...And God knows you’ve put up with so much of my bullshit and I’m sorry for everything.” His free hand runs through your hair softly. You struggle to force the doubts from your mind, focusing on the feel of his hands against you. God knows, you’re only setting yourself up for pain, but at the moment you could care less. He takes a deep breath, closing the distance between your bodies. “Please don’t hate me for this,” he breathes before claiming your lips softly with his own.

You sigh into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensations running through you, your arms locking loosely around his neck. In the back of your mind, you can’t help fearing the consequences of this. As wonderful as he feels pressed against you, what if he decides that he doesn’t really want this. That he doesn’t want you. What terrifies you more is the fact that a part of you doesn’t care. What if this is all you ever get, can you simply walk away from it now, knowing just how wonderful he feels pressed against you?

He can feel you tensing against him, fearing the worst, he pulls back, eyes wandering over your face. The confusion, the desire, and the fear he sees running through your eyes gives him a moments pause. He’s hurt you enough already, can he really risk hurting you more?

“What do you want from me?” you manage to choke out. “What do you want?”

He swallows thickly, trying desperately to think of what to say, how to respond. “You. I want you,” he whispers, closing the distance between you once again. “I don’t know where this is going to end up. But I just...I don’t want to lose you. I want this. I want you. I just don’t want you to hate me for it.”

His fingers trace along your jaw, loving how smooth and warm you skin is beneath his fingers. Your eyes drift closed. God, he feels amazing. Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to give in. Even if this is all you’ll ever receive from him, its better than never knowing. “I could never hate you,” you whisper. Your arms wrap around his neck once more, pulling him closer, hearing his sharp intake of breath. 

Wordlessly, he leans down once more, claiming your lips with his. You sigh into the kiss, parting your lips slightly. Just a subtle invitation should he choose to accept it. Uncertainly, his tongue traces along your bottom lip, before entering your mouth. Your tongues battle as the kiss deepens. You find yourself moaning against his lips, body pressed flush against his. Growing more confident, his hands settle on your hips and he slowly backs you from the kitchen down the hall.

Your bedroom. He was taking you back to your bedroom. Having no objections, you allow yourself to be lead. Unceremoniously, he pushes the door open with the ball of his foot. From there its only a few short steps to the bed. Carefully, he lowers you onto the bed, lips never leaving yours. His hands wander slowly beneath the tank top you wear, cupping your breasts softly. You moan against his lips, arching your back against him. Your fingers wander along his bare back, nails scratching against his skin. He hisses at the sensation, breaking the kiss long enough to pull your tank top off your body. You watch as his eyes widen slightly as they wander over your naked chest. 

Eager for more, you allow you hands to travel down his back to rest on his hips. Along the elastic waistband of the sweat pants he’s since donned. “Off,” you hiss. He nods, pushing the pants down his hips and kicking them from his body, pulling his boxers down with them. You allow your eyes to wander down his body briefly, taking him in. Lord, he was stunning. 

A soft blush creeps over his features as your eyes wander down his body. Snapping himself from his trance, he allows his fingers to trace along your abdomen before falling on the fastening of your jeans. Making quick work of the fastenings, he slowly slides the thick denim down and over your hips and thighs, a shiver of pure lust coursing through him as his eyes fall upon your bare flesh. 

A soft moan falls from his lips and he leans down to claim your lips once more. The kiss is heated, desperate. Broken only when your bare bodies touch for the first time. Hisses of pleasure fall from both of your lips. “Want you,” he breathes against your lips, lining your bodies up. You shiver as the head of his erection presses against your opening. You mewl softly as he pauses to rub the head against your clit. You toss your head back; your eyes clenched shut, mouth slack. God, he’s never seen you so look beautiful.

Gathering himself, he rests his hands on your hips. His eyes lock on yours and you feel as though you could drown in them. Leaning down, he claims your lips once more, sheathing himself within your body. You whimper into the kiss, arching your hips into him. Slowly, steadily, he builds a rhythm, captivated by the breathy whimpers and sighs falling from your lips. Each stroke is maddening and all too soon you feel your body tensing, slowly giving itself over to the pleasure coursing through you.

His name falls from your lips as your body tenses and clamps around his. Your eyes slam shut and your can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Faintly, you hear him call your name as he pulses his seed within you. You slowly feel yourself falling back to earth, the warm, heavy weight of his spent body resting against you. You sigh, contentedly, the pleasurable ache still coursing through you. “I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His words warm you, and you gently rub your hands along his back. Lord only knows where this leaves you both, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.


End file.
